“Over 8,000 layers of in-yun, over 8,000 lifetimes”
The title of Past Lives directly reflects the concept of in-yun. In Korean, in-yun speaks to fated relationships, even the fleeting ones; yet the lasting ones require thousands of layers. Combining the poetry of in-yun with her own experience in a bar in the East Village, writer/director Celine Song weaves a bitter but savory tapestry out of the red thread of fate.
Twenty years ago, a boy and a girl were inseparable—until her parents emigrated from South Korea to America. The pair are not likely to see each other again, but ten years later, Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) reaches out to Nora (Greta Lee), and while their lives are very different, their connection has not wavered. Perhaps that’s why the distance becomes too wide, and they say another ‘farewell, for now.’
After another ten years, Hae Sung comes to New York to see Nora. He has just ended a relationship. She has been married for seven years to Arthur (John Magaro), a man who mirrors who she is now. Still, Nora is not someone Hae Sung can forget. He has to know: What if?
It sounds like a love triangle, but the essence of Past Lives is something else. It is a multiverse of the most practical kind. Nora must make her choice and allow every other possible reality to disintegrate—even if letting go leaves a void behind. Past Lives is also an opera of conversations; again and again, we find two people talking, each pair transitioning into the next, blending into another melody until the story is told. By the time the actual score fades, we are affected by this meditation on longing and its wistful sense of loss.
Past Lives also exists in contrasts. Childhood dreams versus adult realities. Contentment versus regret. Arthur’s outward acceptance versus his internal need to possess Nora so thoroughly, he even wants to invade her dreams. Most strikingly, Nora’s Americanness is an opposing force to Hae Sung’s Koreaness—they are foreigners to each other, yet they share a spark of recognition. This polarity is magnetic. It somehow draws them to each other more than their childhood bond. Nora recognizes this early on, but Hae Sung takes time, while Arthur knows it from the first.
Visually, Past Lives is candlelight-colored with backgrounds and sets that channel the tangibility of the everyday. Someone mentioned Richard Linklater as a point of reference for the aesthetic. Not for me. There are moments—the interplay between characters and shots—when I think of Wong Kar Wai (one of the greatest filmmakers of all time). The moodiness and unbreakable walls of In the Mood for Love, the volatility and sentiment of Happy Together; Past Lives could be a scion of those artistic genetics. This steady and luxuriantly languid film moves at the pace of longing, what if, and maybe love—but it is also uncomfortable for me, as though something precious is falling apart and I am a voyeur to its demise.
“What if this is a past life, and we are already something else to each other in the next one.”
